Going Mad
by PippinStrange
Summary: A one-shot sequel to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. It is now during World War I, and young Alice Liddell is volunteering for the Red Cross. But divine providence has fated her to return to Wonderland and to the one she loved and left behind.


**A one-shot sequel to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. It is now during World War I, and young Alice Liddell is volunteering for the Red Cross. But divine providence has fated her to return to Wonderland and to the one she loved and left behind.**

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"It is so dreadful being grown up," Alice said sleepily.

"What did you say?" replied a stout, haughty voice. "Miss Liddell, I really must insist that if you can't be productive- get out."

Alice looked slowly to the speaker, her soft eyes trailing upwards to the stiff-colored Head Nurse. "Ma'am," she said, attempting to rectify, "I only meant that the time in which we live is very dreadful. The war is terrible. That is why I am pleased to be here and help."

"Help?" scoffed the Head Nurse. "I will believe you are any sort of help if you can actually roll more than thirty bandages in an hour. You are undoubtedly the slowest creature I have ever beheld."

Alice sighed. "One cannot possibly understand the true meaning of pace till one has understood physics. Such as the physics of a race. A Caucus race, perhaps. Have you ever run a race, Nurse?"

The Head Nurse marched to the table at which Alice sat. She leered across, planting heavy hands on the bandages that Alice had forgotten about. "We are in the midst of a world war," she growled, "And if you cannot take it seriously, I wish you to go."

"Shall I go now or later?" Alice queried. "I can finish this bandage. Though I suppose your meaning in exiling me is to teach some sort of lesson, though the lesson is counter productive, if the lesson is to teach me productivity, when the punishment lessens my doing so. See?"

The Head Nurse glowered. "Get out. GET OUT."

Alice sighed. If only she worked harder in French, she might have gone to the France unit of Red Cross volunteers. Unfortunately languages, as was most subjects, remained difficult for her to study and retain. The Red Cross women in England were of the snobbiest sort, and Alice just couldn't bring herself to get along with them.

She stood up and exited the wide gymnasium, a building belonging to a team of polo players who had long since gone to war and were probably killed or half-dead by the time the Red Cross took it over for charity duties. Alice made her way outdoors, surprised to discovere night had fallen. Time seemed to have ticked without tocking, that is, it passed ever so quickly and she was quite sure it was only tea-time! But there, there was a moon and a shaft of moonlight splayed against the side of Big Ben, highlighting the edges of Parliament and making England a very fine place to be, indeed. But the moonlight was not enough to keep the bees away.

"How very odd," Alice said, looking around quickly. "It does seem that I hear a swarm of bees on the move. Such a buzz in the sky!" It was too late for her to recognize the hum of vast approaching aeroplane turbines. The fighter biplanes- of German making, she expected- suddenly streaked across the star-studded expanse. And then there was a shrill whistle, just like a kettle, only unbearably sharp. It was almost like when tea is served, after all! Though perhaps, it is not usually followed by a savage blast that rips the very reality of time and place right from it's favorite place on the book shelf and rearranges all the classics till up is down and right is left and we're all floating in midair and dreading the hour we hit the pavement in apprehension of the bombers from a world far, far away.

The explosion tore a bloody hole in the sky, the gymnasium, and in a fiery storm that shuddered and thundered for only a second, Alice found herself falling into a great, silent cavern that opened in the ground beside her. The rubble and the noise and the screams and the warning air-raid sirens- Oh, it was too much! The falling, straight down into the bombs' chasm, was ripping the scream right from Alice's throat before she even had a chance to question whether or not it was a very good idea to do so.

And then, unhurt, she floated into a dark place that smelled of foam and fresh lemon bars on a platter at a birthday party. It wasn't so dark after all, not so dark but growing lighter. A dawn breaking overhead. The hole wasn't so much a hole, but more like a wooded place, with trees and gray sunlight introducing a fresh morning. There were no fighter aeroplanes or bombs. "Curious," Alice cried, "Have I died? Have I been bombed to smithereens by a pilot serving the slightly misguided and quite unfortunate Nazi party? They are often doing terrible things to people in England, though I've never suffered directly, I've actually a mind to do some complaining about my treatment here. Perhaps there is someone I can write a letter to?"

"Alice, Alice," said a voice. A voice full of warmth and familiarity.

The face to whom the voice belonged was that of a man. A man not like an old man, but a man not like a young man. As Goldilocks declared of the youngest bear's chair, it was just right! Alice knew him but couldn't place the Name- and as we know, all Names are important, and if you cannot remember a man's Name, there really is no point in trying to remember them at all. One must know the Name and by it, all other facades shall come to life.

Something was coming to life. The color, the bright sunlight, the glowing woods were full of nine meter flowers, bedazzling petals, bejeweled mushrooms, and snickering insects made of children's toys from a nursery room floor.

"Alice, Alice," said the voice again. The man was looking down at her. His pleasant face spoke of an uncanny friendship, a fondness for riddles and a dash of herbal tea with almost no sugar whatsoever. His eyes were blossoming with a happy smile that spoke of happy surprise, a touch of madness- but most of all, they glimmered with love.

"Alice, do you know me?" he asked.

Alice took into account that she sat upon the forest floor, as if she had been dropped there by a rainfall guided by giants. Her legs seemed to be all right, there was no sign of an explosion. Everything was left behind, in England. Except for herself, for herself was wrapped up in something. Her body was held, quite securely, in the comfortable embrace of the man.

"Hatter?" she asked, hoping that it was not merely a bout of confusion again. He pulled back, allowing her to get a look at him.

"It's me, Alice," he said, his large, patched hat hanging crookedly on his head.

"I've come back to Wonderland?"

"Aye, you've come back. And I daresay, you are early for tea."

"How can I be early if I have received no invitation?"

"I am inviting you to stay now," cried the Hatter hurriedly, jerking her forward into a loving hold again. "And never, ever leave me. Please."

He held her so tightly, Alice was certain that they would never part again.

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THE END

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